


take what i can get

by Junia



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: (Or is it?), Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Love Confessions, Rating May Change, Unrequited Love, and awkwardness, lots of pining
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-02
Updated: 2019-02-17
Packaged: 2019-10-16 20:41:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17552849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Junia/pseuds/Junia
Summary: “So yeah,” he breathes, swallowing thickly, “I guess what I’m trying to say here is that I have feelings for you. I’m in love with you.”Her mouth opens and falls close again as she tries to find words, but everything that makes its way to her lips sounds wrong, so wrong and cruel, and Bellamy doesn't deserve that. "I'm sorry, Bellamy. I - I don't know what to say.""Nothing at all?"She lets out a heavy breath and shakes her head. "I - I really don't."•OR, the one in which Bellamy confesses his feelings for Clarke, and everything changes.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I have a feeling this might be a fic that some people won't understand why it exists. but oh well. angst is what i thrive on !

_He loved me too early;_

_•_

 

When Bellamy asks her to take a walk with him and get some cigarettes, she doesn't think much of it. So it comes as a total surprise when he utters the words, "I need to talk to you."

They do a lot of that when they’re together — talking. He’s a good listener when she’s on and on about the latest developments in her life or lack thereof, and isn’t afraid to call her out on her bullshit if that’s the case. And Clarke likes to think that the feeling is mutual. That when Bellamy needs an open ear, Clarke’s there for him just as much as he’s for her. So she tries not to be too intimidated by these six words, and shoots him a reassuring smile instead. “Alright.”

“Remember when you, uh, wanted to know about my crush or whatever?”

“Oh. Yeah, of course.” Clarke nods, thinking back to a couple nights earlier when Bellamy seemed to be in a bit of a mood, and she managed to make him admit that he has had, in fact, an eye on somebody lately.

“And how I told you it’s someone I’m close to?”

“Yep. I’ve been trying to guess, by the way, and I think it’s either Raven or Emori? Although if it’s Raven, I would hurry up if I was you because she’s been pondering about going out with that guy from her class.”

Bellamy’s hardly visible shake of the head tells her that she should stop rambling.

“No? Aw man,” she says with a sigh, “then I give up. I have no idea. Surprise me!”

Clarke sees him take a deep breath and then let the air out all at once as his eyes find hers. (Absently she wonders if he’s nervous? Which is absurd even thinking about it, because it’s Bellamy fucking Blake she’s talking about — that guy doesn’t just get nervous. But then he swallows, and okay, maybe he _is_.)

“What if it’s _you_?”

It takes her a few seconds to process his words. “What?”

“What if it’s you,” Bellamy repeats slowly, still holding her gaze, “that I have feelings for?”

“Bellamy, are you joking right now or - ?”

He huffs out a laugh, scrubbing a hand across his face. “I wish I was, trust me, but -” He sighs. “It’s the truth. For a while now, I’ve had… more than platonic feelings for you and after denying it for a long time, I realized that I like you. And I mean romantically like you, Clarke. I love spending time with you more than with anyone else, I love hearing about your day even if it only consisted of watching Netflix and eating Thai take out and I love… seeing you smile, and laugh, and snore when you're sleeping. You're the person I look most forward to seeing after a shitty day. I always thought it's because you're my best friend, but it's more than that. You're so much more than that.” Bellamy shrugs. “So yeah,” he breathes, swallowing thickly, “I guess what I’m trying to say here is that I have feelings for you. I’m in love with you.”

Her mouth opens and falls close again as she tries to find words, but everything that makes its way to her lips sounds wrong, so wrong and cruel, and Bellamy doesn't deserve that. "I'm sorry, Bellamy. I - I don't know what to say."

"Nothing at all?"

She lets out a heavy breath and shakes her head. "I - I really don't."

“Oh,” he says, one word enough to reveal how a broken heart sounds.

Clarke immediately feels terrible and struggles to say something that will make him feel better, make this situation not as horrible as it currently is or just something that’ll fucking help.

“I mean I have a lot to say, just not… what you probably want to hear. “ _Oh god, that doesn’t help at all_. “Fuck, sorry. I’m so sorry, Bellamy.” She shakes her head and buries her face in her hands. “I never expected this, you know? You’re my best friend -” She looks up again and wishes he would have the ability to read her thoughts.

He takes a step closer and raises his hand, perhaps to lay it on her shoulder and squeeze, but after a moment of hesitation, he lowers it again. Instead, he tries to press out a soft smile, a smile that doesn’t nearly reach his eyes. “No, don’t apologize. It should be me apologizing.”

“No,” she almost shrieks, stepping forward, “you shouldn’t, no.”

“I do,” Bellamy insists because that’s who he is, a stubborn force of nature, “you’re right, we are _friends_ , and I shouldn’t have taken you by surprise with all of this.”

How can a love confession not take you by surprise? Clarke wants to tell him that it’s not his fault, that she is sorry (again), but comes up with nothing but loud, heavy silence.

“But is it really that deep already, or - or is it maybe just a crush?” She tries after a moment. When he looks up to her, brows furrowed, she scrambles to elaborate, “Because I’ve had a lot of crushes that went away after a week! Like that one time, I thought I was into Raven? But I was just admiring how pretty she was, you know. We were friends and still are, so you see how fast feelings come and go?”

“I don’t think… ” Bellamy starts saying before trailing off with the shake of his head. “You’re probably right. Maybe it’ll go away, um, after a week or so.”

She can literally see how wrong and insensitive it was of a thing to say, and mentally punches herself for being like this. But here he is, agreeing with Clarke, lying, just for her.

When neither them adds anything to this sad excuse of a conversation, Bellamy scratches the back of his neck and seems to be ready to go back to their friends. Before that she catches his wrist, though.

“Thank you for telling me the truth, Bell.”

His eyes dip to her hand around his wrist, and realizing what that probably means to him, she lets go.

“Thank you for listening,” he replies quietly. Clarke sees him shift away from her but then turn around again, raising his brow. “We’re still good, right? I - I don’t want things to get weird between us just because of… this.”

It’s almost comical how fast she nods and says, “yeah. Sure.”

The smile that he gives her this time seems more genuine, and yet still worlds apart from the one that he had an hour ago when they were passing the bottle of wine between each other, or the day before, as they were planning a road trip through the states.

“I need some time to think,” Clarke finds herself saying then, “and maybe we can talk about it some other time, yeah?”

“Yeah,” he replies with a nod.

Things are supposed to be normal between them, and still, the walk back to their friends is filled with heavy silence, where it’s usually filled with light banter and too much laughter to count.

The hours that follow are slow and filled with forced out smiles. Clarke can‘t stop thinking about what her best friend just told her and Bellamy apparently can‘t look her into the eyes anymore, his gaze always flickering away before fully meeting hers. Not that she blames him. Every time he says something, her mind goes back to his words from before, the look on his face when she didn‘t say it back and the knowledge that even though they said it‘s not going to be weird, _it is going to be weird._

It doesn‘t help that they‘re all supposed to sleep over at Jasper‘s tonight, forced to spend the next twelve hours together.

Apparently, Bellamy feels the same way, because when Raven starts getting the blankets — Jasper having already passed out on the couch — Bellamy stands up and announces that he‘s going home.

„It‘s ten miles from here to your place,“ Raven rightfully points out with an arched brow.

Bellamy shrugs nonchalantly. „I‘ll drive.“

And that pisses the living hell out of her. „Are you out of your mind? You‘re drunk.“

„Am not drunk,“ he says, still not meeting her eyes.

„You drank half a bottle of wine,“ she argues.

„Hence, _not drunk_ ,“ Bellamy repeats.

„Clarke‘s right. Drunk, or not, you did drink, and since we‘re all responsible young adults here, you‘re not driving.“ Raven accentuates her point by grabbing his car keys from the table and stuffing them into the pockets of her hoodie. Then she crosses her arms and sends him a questioning look. „What‘s your deal anyways that you‘re suddenly so against sleeping over here?“

Oh, Clarke knows precisely what his deal is. And part of her wants to relieve him from her presence, since it apparently bothers him that much, and go home herself. Her apartment isn‘t that far away. But she knows that‘d raise even more questions, maybe also somehow expose him and she doesn‘t want that for him, so she stays quiet as Bellamy comes up with some bullshit excuse why he wants to go home.

The next obstacle occurs when everyone spreads out on what‘s left on the couch and the mattress on the floor, and Raven yet again shoots them a confused glance.

„Why are you still here?“

Clarke decides to play dumb for once. „What do you mean?“

Rolling her eyes, her friend turns her back to her as she spreads out the blankets. „You and Bellamy always get to sleep in Jasper‘s room. Unfair, by the way.”

“Not always,” she tries to shrug away lightly, plopping down on the couch. “But you can sleep there, I don’t mind.”

“Really?” Raven questions, looking between her and Bellamy.

“Yeah, really. I’m feeling much more companionship-y anyway.”

The argument would be more convincing if half of her companionship weren’t asleep already, only Monty being barely awake and raising a tired hand to wave awkwardly.

“Well, I’m not gonna say no to a real bed,” Raven says with a grin before elbowing Bellamy’s ribs. “What do you say, Blake? You and me, just like old times?”

“That’s _not_ going to happen,” he retorts, huffing out a laugh as they make their way to Jasper’s room.

Clarke only hears, “Hey, I don’t know what’s going on behind the doors when you and Griffin sleep there” before they disappear around the corner.

She tries to laugh it off, to smile and go to bed and act like everything’s just as it’s supposed to be, but she fails.

“Hey, are you okay?” Monty asks her from above where’s he’s laying on the couch, worry written across his sleepy features.

Nodding for a little too long, she pulls the sheets over her legs. “I’m fine, I just - I think it was too much wine.”

_Very convincing._

“Relatable. Too much moonshine.”

Clarke chuckles and nudges her head over to Jasper and Miller. “Too much pot, and too much… did Miller even drink anything?”

“I doubt it. It’s probably just too much _us_.”

“Makes sense.”

It’s not much, but it does help a little that at least some things are still normal. “Good night, Monty,” she says and cuddles into her blanket.

“Night, Clarke.”

•

The next morning Bellamy drives her and the others home. Thankfully she is the first he drops off, so she doesn’t have to talk to him completely alone.

It’s strange, she thinks as she climbs up the stairs to her apartment. Just twenty-four hours ago Clarke wouldn't have even blinked at the thought of spending time alone with him. Now she’s actually scared to. Which reminds her, that they, in fact, made plans to check out the new Marvel movie these days. _Great._

Clarke opens the door and first lets out a big sigh before dropping the keys on the counter. There’s water running around which means Murphy must be under the shower. Well, too bad for him because she really needs to talk to about it.

“Hey, Murphy,” she calls, knocking on the door. “I’m coming in, okay?” She gives him three seconds to conclude whatever activities he was doing and then barges in.

“What the fuck, Clarke?” comes from the shower.

“I need to talk to you,” she says, sitting down on the toilet seat. “It’s really important.”

His head pops out from behind the shower curtain, and he shoots her a glare. “So important that you feel the need to interrupt my shower?”

“Yes.”

The glare stays on his face for a couple more seconds before he gives in with a sigh and waves a hand at her. “Fine. Spill the tea, or whatever.”

“But you can’t tell anyone.”

“Who would I tell? The only times I ever get gossip is from you. Or Emori when we were together.”

That _is_ a good point.

“Okay, prepare yourself. Not that you accidentally slip and break your neck and I'll have to see you naked.”

“Spit it out, Clarke,” he huffs.

She takes a deep breath and just lets it go. “Bellamy told me he has feelings for me.”

There is a suspicious silence before he asks, “and how do we feel about that?”

“How do we feel about that?” she parrots, voice all prim and squeaky.“ He’s my best friend, Murphy! Emphasis on _friend_!”

“Okay,” he says slowly, “so should I beat him up or what?”

“What? No! Of course not. He’s going through it without you beating him up anyway.”

“Got it.”

She lets out a whine and drops her face into her hands. “I don’t know what to do here.I love him, I do, but it’s not - not like that, you know? And our friendship is too important to ruin over something like this.”

Murphy hums in agreement, still in the shower. “I get it. It sucks when a friend catches feelings.”

“Exactly!” Then she lifts her head back up and frowns. “But why do you sound so calm about it? Oh my god, did he tell you before me?”

“Um, no. The most intimate conversations I’ve ever had with Bellamy was about shaving my pubes.”

Clarke’s nose scrunches up in disgust at the unwanted picture that pops up in her head.

“He didn’t tell me, but if you wanna know the truth, it was kinda obvious. Even a blind person could’ve seen he was into you.”

“That’s not - it wasn’t…” she trails off in resignation and blows out a frustrated huff of breath.

“I’m surprised you didn’t figure out yourself.”

“Would’ve made things a lot easier.”

“I’m more surprised that you don’t feel the same.”

Clarke huffs out a humorless laugh. There‘s always been some sort of weird idea that she and Bellamy would make a good couple, her friends teasing them every now and then. But she always assumed that was all it was — a joke. She certainly didn‘t expect Bellamy to actually have feelings for her. „I don‘t,“ she grumbles with a shrug before furrowing her brows. “Or I don’t know. No, no I see him as a friend.”

“So it’s one hundred percent platonic?” Murphy asks. “Not a hint of romantic feelings in you?”

Her mouth opens and closes again. She would like to give a clear answer in order not to play around with anyone, including herself, but she finds herself hesitating. “It’s never one hundred percent platonic,” she argues.

“Bullshit,” he scoffs, “you’re telling me there’s a zero point one percent chance of romantic feelings in you for me?”

“That’s different.”

“How?”

“We’re not -“ she tries, “- not like that. Our relationships are different.”

“Well, I don’t like to brag, but I think you almost tell me as much as broody Blake. And I’m your roommate which means if this was a chick flick movie, you’d be in love with me and not him.”

“I’m not in love with either of you. That’s the whole issue.”

“So it’s already an issue that you’re not in love with him?”

“What? No, not what I said. It’s an issue for _him_.” Although a small part of her believes that maybe it is an issue, even for her, that maybe everything would be easier if she just felt the same about him, but she doesn‘t voice that. Murphy‘s already enough of a smartass about this. „Okay, I don‘t want to talk about it anymore,“ she announces and stands up.

„Hey, you barged in on me showering, not the other way around.“

„And now I‘m barging out.“ She opens the door but turns back around before leaving. „Don‘t waste all the hot water, Murphy. The last water bill was insane.“

•

The next two days are relatively normal compared to that Friday. Clarke forces herself to finish her paper on _the impact of photography_ and spends her free time bingeing the walking dead on Netflix. And things with Bellamy are… well, not exactly changed, but she notices that he doesn‘t text her as much.

It‘s only when she sees his name pop up on her display when a call comes through that she notices how nervous she _still_ is. Clarke thought she might calm down after a day or two. But she's antsy enough to even consider not to pick up. She pulls herself together, though, and slides over the green accept button.

„Hey.“

„Hey,“ Bellamy says, „are you finished with classes?“

„Yeah, I just came home. Why?“

„We wanted to watch _Ant-Man and The Wasp_ tonight, remember? Are you still up for it?“

„Oh, right.“ She scratches her hair and walks over to the counter in her kitchen, trying to figure out if she is up for it. They did make plans to watch it and canceling without a good reason would be stupid, but going to the movies seems so… intimate somehow.

 _For fuck‘s sake, he‘s your best friend, Griffin_ , she scolds herself. _Just because he is interested in you, it doesn‘t mean that going to the movies is intimate_. „Uh, of course, I‘m up to it. Is seven okay?“

„Perfect. Should I pick you up?“

„That‘d be great.“

„Alright. See you later.“

„Bye.“

By the time Bellamy is supposed to be outside her building, Clarke has already bitten off half of her fingernails. She isn‘t really sure why the thought of spending time with Bellamy alone makes her so freaking nervous — well, it has probably something to do with the fact that he confessed to liking her of course, but still. He said it doesn‘t have to change anything, they both agreed on it, and this is how their normal looks. Going to the movies together. Maybe grabbing a bite at Master Hongs afterward. Strolling through the streets. And yet it makes her all squirmy and jittery.

The sound of an incoming text snaps her out of her thoughts, and she glances at her phone to see that Bellamy texted her he‘s here. Taking one last deep breath, she grabs her purse and keys and walks down the stairs. She spots his black jeep right outside and slides into the passenger seat with a timid smile.

„Hey. Thanks for picking me up.“

„Of course,“ he nods and pulls out of the driveway. „So. How was your day?“ Bellamy asks after a few moments.

„Um, it was fine. I finally finished my paper.“

„Ah, the one about the first cameras?“

She nods, her mouth curling up into that smile because he remembered. He always remembers. „Yeah, that one. I watched the walking dead, but otherwise, I didn't do anything special.“

„What part are you at right now?“

„Um, they‘re at the prison. I just started season three.“

A frown washes across his features. „Didn‘t you start watching only a few days ago?“

„I may have watched the first two seasons in two days,“ she says, shrugging. „It‘s called bingeing, Bellamy.“

„Huh, told you you‘d like it.“

„You did,“ Clarke murmurs, her gaze suddenly trained on her hands.

Bellamy knows her, more than most people do. She has known Wells since she first blinked open her eyes, but even he doesn't know some things she told Bellamy. Which is a miracle all in itself, because opening up to others has never been her strength.

A silence sweeps over them. Usually, she's comfortable not talking with Bellamy for a while, not feeling the need to fill their time with words. Now Clarke can‘t help but feel as if this is more tense, more awkward.

She clears her throat a few minutes later and shoots him a brief glance. „So, uh, are you feeling fine?“

A look of hesitation hushes across his face but fades into two furrowed brows and a stronger grip on the wheel. „Yeah. Why are you asking?“

„Well, last time you seemed to be doing… not that good.“ She realizes that it must sound like she‘s talking about his confession and rushes to correct herself, „I mean because you didn‘t want to sleep at Jasper‘s. And you were pretty quiet the next morning. Not when you told me about, uh, that.“

„Oh,“ Bellamy says, eyes adamant on the road and pointedly not on her, „it was a weird day.“

She hums in agreement. This time she doesn‘t try to fill the silence that follows, one brief conversation about the night before already too exhausting than she can bear.  
  
Thankfully there aren’t so many people at the cinema so that the lines for the snacks aren’t too long. The girl working behind the counter greets them with a monotonous nod. “What can I get you?”

“Two times medium popcorn, two cokes, and nachos,” Bellamy provides for them while she fumbles around in her bag to find her wallet.

“Do you want the couple’s popcorn box? It’s the size of two mediums, but you save three dollars.”

As soon as she hears it, she immediately drops her wallet. “Um, no, it’s alright,” Bellamy says, sounding equally flustered. He turns to her and shoots her a questioning look. “Or do you want - ?”

“No, no, it’s okay that way,” Clarke stutters out. “We’re not - not... that.”

“We’re not a couple. Two mediums are fine,” he confirms one more time, and the cashier blinks a few times before clicking a few buttons on her register.

“That makes 21 dollars, please.”

Before she has even any time to open her wallet, Bellamy hands the girl the money. She rolls her eyes and pokes him in the ribs, wanting to give him her part of the bill, but Bellamy shakes his head and says, “It’s fine.”

“What? No. Here -” She pushes the tab into his hand. “You don’t have to pay for me.”

“Clarke, I said it’s fine.”

“And I said take the money, Bellamy,” she persists, seizing him up with a what she hopes to be an intimidating stare. Unfortunately, that’s the moment the cashier chooses to give them their food and drinks so that Clarke is forced to take the money to carry her bag of popcorn and coke.

“You’re stupid,” she tells him once they’ve sat down in their seats.

“Just pay next time, and we’ll be even,” he huffs, grabbing a fistful of popcorn and shoving it into his mouth while Clarke’s glaring at him. “I don’t know why you’re making such a fuss about it.”

In a way he’s right. Their friendship has never been about counting money and nitpicking. Clarke pays for taking out on a movie night at her place, and the next time Bellamy pays for brunch, and it always works. Even when he was short on money at the beginning of his classes, he never let her give him more than he could return, but Clarke usually made sure she made something extra nice for him. So why she’s making such a big deal out of it now is a mystery, even to her. Then again she has a feeling why.

In the end, she just shakes her head and sighs. “Next time’s on me.”

The movie starts, and it goes more smoothly after that. Well, except that one time they both reach for the nachos at the same time, and it results in their hands brushing. Their hands fly apart like two teenagers on the first date, and if it wasn’t so painfully awkward, she’d find it comical.

After the credits start rolling Clarke lets out a sigh. „I have to say I expected it to be worse.“

„Yeah, I‘m positively surprised,“ he nods.

Then they watch the post-credit scene, and her mouth drops open. “What. The. fuck.”

She’s still a little shocked about the ending in the car, imagining all the way the fourth Avengers film might rip out her heart. Bellamy seems to be lost in thought as well, his eyes on the road and one hand on the back of his head. That’s when he asks, “Do you want me to drive you home?”

The question catches her by surprise if she's honest. Usually, they would grab a bite of food, discuss and share their shitty opinions of the movie, or go to each other’s place and just hang out for a while longer. Clarke always valued their time together since it’s not easy between college, jobs and other friends. But now she doesn’t really know what to talk to him about, what to say or how to behave. Everything’s just suddenly so weird and requires her to overthink every action and word when it was the most natural thing in the world before. Now the thought of them alone, talking, makes her stomach twist into anxious knots.

“I have to get up early tomorrow,” she says, which isn’t a lie, it just never stopped her before.

“So home it is.” He takes the next intersection and drives into the direction of her apartment.

“Thank you, Bell.”

Bellamy’s eyes flicker over to her and his mouth curls into a small smile, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes, she can see that. Damn it, and that makes her so fucking sad because it’s Bellamy, her best friend, the person who experienced the most absurd things with her in the last years. She hates seeing him like this. Hates that it’s because of her. So she tries to make it better.

“But we can hang at my place. If you want.”

He frowns at her. “You sure? I thought you said you have to get up early.”

“I’m not gonna go to sleep right away, anyway.” When he still looks unconvinced, she adds, “and I still have leftover from the lasagne Murphy cooked.” It works like magic.

“You had me at lasagne.”

“More like Murphy’s lasagne.”

“Hey, I would eat your lasagne, too.”

Clarke scoffs. “You didn’t eat the cake I made for Jasper.”

“That’s because it was just baked sugar with apples,” he says. “We still need to work on your baking skills.”

Not long after they pull up in front of her apartment. Three flight of stairs and the usual amount of complaining from Bellamy later, Clarke opens the door and stretches first things first, letting out a loud groan that matches the one of a dying whale. Bellamy kicks off his shoes and walks right past her to the living room where he drops down on the couch.

“So what,” she huffs, standing in front of him with crossed arms, “you just expect me to bring you the food like I’m your housewive?” It crosses her mind later that it might not be the best thing to call herself like that, but thankfully he doesn’t show any particular reaction.

“I just need a minute to recover from the stairs, relax.” Glancing around and raising a brow, he asks, “Where’s Murphy?”

“Bar crawling.”

Even though she was complaining about making him the food a second ago, she still goes to the kitchen to microwave the leftovers.

“On a Monday night?” he asks

“It’s Murphy." Clarke shrugs. After four years of friendship with him, Bellamy should know that there’s no reason not to go on a bender on a Monday night for Murphy. The microwaves bings and she gets out the plate. “Here, bon appetit.”

"You're an angel," Bellamy says, taking the plate from her and not hesitating to dig in.

Clarke watches him for a few moments where it's silent except for his smacking and slurping. At this moment, everything is normal. Bellamy is her best friend, and there's no need to watch her words or actions. They're good.

Maybe they can return to this, and the weird feeling in her chest she's felt during the last week will ease up.

Bellamy shoves another piece of lasagna into his mouth and turns to her, raising a brow. "What?"

"Nothing," she clears her throats and repeats, "nothing. What do you want to watch?"

"The walking dead?"

Clarke frowns as she logs into his Netflix account. "But you've watched it already."

Bellamy shrugs. "I don't mind watching it again."

Usually, he is far more stubborn when it comes to such an important topic as this. One time he threatened to change his password if she forced them to watch Lost for the twentieth time. She just hopes he's so nice because he likes zombies, and not because of...

Clarke shakes her head, forcing herself to stop having these trains of thoughts all the time.

She makes herself a cup of tea, presses play and then settles next to him while he's finishing his food. Her heart stutters a little when she tries to find a comfortable position and grazes his thigh. If this was any other one of their movie nights, she wouldn't even notice. She would lay her head on his shoulder or place her feet in his lap. But it's not like that anymore. Everything is different, and it would be unfair to pretend like it wasn't, so she keeps a good few inches distance between them and tries to focus on the group's shenanigans in prison.

And then she falls asleep.

•

Clarke wakes up when she hears the door fall closed. Moments later she‘s drowsily blinking at Murphy.

„You two look cozy,“ he comments, falling down on the armchair.

Apparently, when they both fell asleep, they also shuffled closer somehow. So now she's lying on the firm muscles of Bellamy's arm, her other hand on his chest. Clearing her throat, she untangles herself from him and sits up.

„And you look drunk.“

„Not after only two beers.“

She huffs. „So what did you do the entire night then?“

„Mostly think about my shitty life,“ he shrugs, „with a side touch of tits.“

„Relatable.“

„So,“ Murphy nudges his head towards Bellamy‘s sleeping form, „did you two confess your love for each other and then had a good old round of vanilla sex?“

Rolling her eyes, she kicks at his legs for having such a goddamn mouth. „We watched a movie and fell asleep,“ Clarke says. „No confessions.“

„At least not from you.“

„At least not from me,“ she agrees in a low murmur. It feels shitty to talk this way about Bellamy and his feelings because it‘s not a joke. To Murphy, everything‘s a joke, though. When she told him about her breakup with Lexa with tears in her eyes, he said it would suck not to get any live porn anymore. It‘s one of those things she hates and loves about Murphy.

They sit there in silence for a while, and Clarke almost falls asleep, but then Murphy gets up, says, „I think you two are gonna bang eventually, confession or not“ and disappears into his room without another word.

She‘s left scowling at his prediction. His _false_ prediction.

They are not going to bang. Clarke won‘t have sex with Bellamy, her best fucking friend. Even if, objectively speaking, he‘s super attractive. Probably good in bed. And she misses sex. She will _not_.

Repeating the words in her head, she gets up from the couch and tiptoes into her own room. Bellamy will have to find his own way out tomorrow.


	2. Chapter 2

Clarke squints at the words in front of her.

 _In 1943, Winthrop bequeathed his entire collection, some four thousand objects, to Harvard_ _College and its museums, for the benefit of its students in perpetuity._

She reads the sentence, word for word, syllable for syllable, but all she hears inside her brain is: _I should be sitting in the lecture right now. That would be more useful than trying to understand this damned indecipherable text._

With a sigh, Clarke claps the book shut and leans back in her chair. For the last few weeks, she's not been able to focus on college, which shouldn't say much, because who does? It's college for god's sake. But she's never had such physical problems with it before.

Well, she did. Once. After her father died, but that was nearly five years ago, and her issues today come nowhere near as close as they were when she was sixteen and just lost her father in a brutal car accident.

Now she's just confused and, distracted.

Clarke takes her phone and rereads Harper's text in the delinquents' group chat: _My dear friends. Exams are upon us for the next few weeks, so I suggest that we all gather one last time together and drink until we forget or (hopefully) die. Place: mine. Time: eight (but add two hours because I know none of you fuckers will be on time). Love, Harper._

Harper is right. Exams are coming soon, and in Clarke's case, it's too fucking soon because she hasn't been able to study at all. The party is that one time every six months they all get equally smashed and tell each other how great they are before everyone disappears into their own world of tests and misery for a while. She used to love it. But right now, all it does is further the knots in her stomach.

She hasn‘t seen Bellamy for a week now. The last time they saw each other was that awkward movie thing where they ended up falling asleep on each other. When she came out of her room the next morning, he was gone, and Clarke was relieved, which is all kinds of wrong. They‘re still texting now and then, but she can feel the tension seeping out of her phone. It‘s driving her insane.

Clarke tries to tear her mind away from this particular subject and gets up to grab a bite. She‘s always been a stress eater. Whether it was eating an entire box of chocolate chip cookies before her high school graduation, shoving spoon after spoon of pasta into her mouth while trying to think of a way to tell her mom she doesn‘t want to go to med school anymore, or compulsively ordering take out during exam time every day. Food has always been her savior in desperate times.

Except when she starts liking somebody. That‘s when she can‘t get down a single bite because it feels like there‘s a hurricane raging in her stomach.

In the kitchen, she makes herself a sandwich and picks at her nails until her index finger is bleeding while waiting for the microwave to bing.

„Murphy,“ she calls when she finally sits down with her snack. Only silence answers her, so she tries again. „Murphy!“

„What?“ his voice comes out of his room, sounding annoyed.

„Can you come here?“

„Why?“

„Just come here.“

She hears him swear lowly before the door opens and he shuffles out, a glare on his face. „What do you want?“

„Did I just wake you up?“

„Yeah, so make whatever you brought me here for worth it.“

„Are you going to Harper‘s this weekend?“

For a moment Murphy blinks at her as if he didn‘t hear the question. So Clarke stares back until he relents.

„Why wouldn‘t I?“ he finally says.

„Well,“ she says, shrugging. Telling Murphy that he hasn‘t been much around the group ever since his breakup with Emori is harder than she calculated.

After a long stretch of silence, understanding seems to dawn on him.„Because of Emori? You think they don‘t want me there?“

„No, no. I mean you got the text, right?“

„Yeah.“

„Then everything‘s fine. I just wanted to know if you‘re going.“

„Yeah, well, thanks for dragging me out of bed for this,“ Murphy mutters as he makes himself a toast. „Are you?“

„I guess so. There isn't a reason not to go.“

„Except Blake.“

Leave it to Murphy to bring up the elephant in the room. Maybe _that‘s_ why she wanted him to come here in the first place. Still, she swallows down the last bite of her sandwich, folds her napkin, and says, „Bellamy and I are fine.“

„But he‘s madly in love with you,“ he points out.

„That‘s - yeah, that‘s, uh, unfortunate. But it doesn‘t change anything. We are still friends.“

„So you‘re adamant on keeping him in the friend zone, huh?“

Clarke rolls her eyes and silently wonders where he learned words like adamant. „The friend zone only exists to further shame women for making their own choices. It‘s bullshit.“

„Whatever.“

„I understand why Emori dumped you,“ she grumbles.

„Fuck off.“

„You fuck off.“

„Gladly.“ His toast jumps out and, like a complete heathen, he takes it without any spreading and topping and saunters away.

Murphy and his smartass remarks are back holed up in his room, but her mind doesn't seem to leave the subject. Again. Over the last week, she's mauled her entire relationship with Bellamy over and over. Slowly but surely she's tired of hearing her endless monologue.

And yet.

Clarke loves Bellamy. She does. They had a rocky start when they first met four years ago because she started giving his little sister Octavia tutoring lessons in high school. She was just seventeen then, Bellamy twenty-two. And every time she was over at their place, Clarke couldn't help but comment on everything she noticed. His smoking habits — he used to have a damn cigarette between his lips constantly. His eating habits — frozen pizza every day was not healthy. His sleeping habits — that guy was running on two hours of sleep each night. And well, on pretty much everything else. Naturally, Bellamy didn't dig her noisy and know-it-all character. He tugged on her ponytail, called her an overeager child, teased her about Finn Collins — the guy she, unfortunately, dated for three weeks — and did his most to rile her up. They were like a hurricane and a volcano, always going off on each other.

And then one night, after she found out Finn had another girlfriend, Clarke got wasted beyond any logic and Octavia, who had found her lying in her own vomit in a bush, didn't know what else to do but call her big brother. They cleaned her up, laid her into his bed and Bellamy stayed up the whole night listening to her cry about Finn and making sure she wouldn't choke on her own bile. The next morning the only thing that kept her from drowning in embarrassment was Bellamy's nonchalance towards the whole thing. They've been friends ever since.

Good friends. _Best_ friends.

He‘s like family to her, the big brother she never had. That‘s why it‘s so shocking to hear that Bellamy feels something romantic for her. She never expected something like this from his side.

She has to admit that there was a time a few months into their new friendship where Clarke had something like a crush on him. Bellamy was older, insanely attractive and every girl she knew was swooning over Octavia‘s infamous older brother who also happened to be Clarke‘s friend. It was almost a must to have these thoughts. Plus, it was her junior year and after the disappointment that Finn turned out to be Clarke wanted some company and romance back in her life. So for a few weeks every time she hung out with Bellamy, she batted her eyelashes at him, wore low cut tops that revealed way too much cleavage and touched him more than necessary, but he just kept treating her like aways. Clarke was a little disappointed. In her head, he would have made an excellent kisser and partner in bed. But one day she was listening to him talk about his digestion problems and realized: this thing between them could never be anything more than friendship. And she didn‘t think about it again.

Until now. Now it‘s all Clarke thinks about these days.

Despite that decision years ago, could she see something more in Bellamy again? Clarke tried to make up scenarios where he — where they were romantically involved, but it feels so freaking strange. And she wanted to make herself feel something for him. She really did. But the love she has for Bellamy is different than what she felt for Lexa or even Finn. It‘s not the same. She doubts it will ever be.

So no. There is nothing more than friendship there, no matter how often she turns it around in her head.

Clarke rubs her temple, tired of getting to the same conclusion over and over again when the doorbell rings. On the way to the door, she wonders if she forgot that she invited someone. Maybe it‘s Raven. She likes to come unannounced. Then she has to pause because what if it‘s Bellamy? What will she say to him? How will she act — no, she stops herself. Murphy probably just ordered a pizza.

However, it‘s worse than all of the options she went through her head. Her mother is standing on her doorstep.

„Mom?“ she croaks out, blinking. „What are you doing here?“

„Visiting you, of course.“ And then she‘s already pulling her into a hug and Clarke has no choice but let herself be smothered for these few seconds.

After a moment she pulls away, still confused. „ I had no idea you were in Chicago.“

„You would have if you ever replied to my phone calls,“ her mom says, pushing herself past her into the living room. „I‘m in the city for a conference and staying at the Hilton, so don‘t worry, I won‘t be bothering you here.“

Clarke flushes at the jab but follows her anyway. „How long will you be staying?“

Abby sits down on the couch, poking a pair of her underwear that’s lying on the couch. „Three days.“

„That‘s great,“ Clarke hums and does her best to sound cheerful instead of annoyed as she picks up the many pieces of clothing and leftovers that make their apartment seem much dirtier than it is. „I have a lot going on right now, though, so I won‘t be able to do a lot with—“

„Of course. In fact, I assumed you were in class right now.“ Her mom glances at her wristwatch. „It‘s ten in the morning. You do have classes on Tuesdays, don‘t you?“

„Um, yeah but —“

„Or have you changed your mind about your choice of career again?“

„ _No,_ mom,“ Clarke manages to say, letting out a huff of frustration.

How is it possible that this woman has been here for two minutes and is already causing her so much stress?

„Exams are coming up,“ she continues more calmly this time, „so I sometimes stay home and study here. Everyone does that.“

„You millennials nowadays,“ her mother says and shakes her head.

Oh yeah, the goddamned youth these days. It‘s always the same game whenever college and Clarke‘s major comes up.

Thankfully, Abby doesn't seem to be interested in discussing this topic more in-depth either, since she looks around the apartment and asks, „Where‘s John?“

„I‘ll get him.“ There‘s actual happiness in Clarke's voice, mostly just relief, though.

What‘s funny is that Murphy isn‘t too mad about being dragged out of bed again. It‘s one of those strange and somehow unfair things in life. Her mother can be overbearing, too demanding and too harsh with her, up to a point where Clarke wants to rip out her hair and jump off a cliff. But her mom loves her friends and the other way around. Raven has some surrogate mother-daughter bond with her where they call each other and talk every few weeks. Murphy likes her too for whatever inexplicable reasons and, unlike with Clarke, Abby doesn‘t criticize him for every little mistake he makes in his life. Sometimes she believes her mom likes them more than she loves her own daughter. It makes her sad, makes her feel like a disappointment. Most of the time she ignores that feeling, though and everything‘s just as peachy as always.

Abby starts quizzing Murphy about the new job he‘s trying out as soon as they start talking. It gives her the opportunity to slip away into her room and return to what she‘s been doing for the last weeks: panicking and not studying.

•

The three days with her mother in the city pass faster than she feared they would, but not easier. On the same day she arrived, Abby convinces Clarke to go grocery shopping with her since they have „no other food than junk- or fast food.“ It‘s not wrong, of course, but it still makes the trip to walmart feel like a trip to hell. Her mom doesn‘t stop lecturing her on the effects of healthy eating habits and this and that. On day two she forces Clarke to have lunch with her and spends two damn hours questioning her future job opportunities after graduation. And on the last day, when Clarke is ready to go to sleep and never wake up again, Abby lingers around in their apartment and acts as the perfect, caring mother for Murphy.

Her mom‘s presence is overwhelming, but the worst thing about all of it is that she would usually call or meet Bellamy and bitch about everything until she feels better. But she can‘t. Or she won‘t let herself. She does mention it to Bellamy over text, and he does ask if she wants to call him, but in the end, she lies and says that everything‘s fine.

So when Friday rolls around, and thus Harper‘s _Exams Are Coming Party_ she is pretty fucking stoked. And Clarke deals with it as she does with every other problem she ever faced in her life: she gets totally, mindlessly, blackout drunk.

She chugs glass after glass, fails at the drinking games because she’s already tipsy, avoids looking at Bellamy who decided to stay sober and then lures Raven outside and drops the bomb on her. Raven, who is trying to get equally drunk because of her own mess of a love life, tells her that it’s not that surprising — why does everyone keep saying that? — and listens to her complain about the weird shift in her friendship with Bellamy. Then they find some other drunk girls on the street, chat for a while and make each other compliments, but at last, they end up in the backyard of a kindergarten, Clarke and Raven sitting on a bench as they wildly overshare.  
  
“You know,” she whines, her arm flapping around, “it’s just so weird because he’s my best friend. I send him snaps from the toilet! He once asked about advice on eating girls out! And now - now he’s telling me that he likes me?!”

Raven nods enthusiastically. “I get it. Both of you’ve reached such a whole ass level of friendzone that it’s weird to uncross it.”

“Yes! I mean he is hot, I admit that. Very hot, especially since he got his haircut, but -” She shrugs helplessly. “- but I don’t know, Raven. I have no fucking idea what to do.”

“Would you sleep with him?”

Clarke considers it and comes to a frightening conclusion. “I guess so.”

When Raven starts making that _I told you so face_ , she rushes to explain, “Now, in my drunk state of mind, I would let him fuck me mindless but — and that’s a big but — it’s because I’m drunk and lonely and kind of horny.”

“So you wouldn’t do it sober?”

“That would be too… too complicated. I don’t have the same feelings he does, and even though I miss having sex on the regular, he deserves more than a half-assed thing. God, Raven, he deserves so much more.”

And that’s how she starts crying in the lap of Raven, all the emotional distress from the past few days streaming out at once. It’s so bad that Raven decides to call Bellamy himself to pick her up because she won't stop sobbing.

The tears only slow down when she slides into the passenger seat of Bellamy’s car, his presence immediately calming her down. That doesn’t mean that he is not worried anymore though since he looks at her with eyes full of concern.

“You want to talk about it? Or distraction?”

She sucks in a breath and swallows. “I’m not sure there is something to talk about it. I’m just drunk and emotional. It’s stupid.”

“Hey, if it makes you cry then it’s not stupid. What’s going on?”

“Classes are keeping me up all night, so I’m constantly stressing about exams and papers, the sink in our apartment doesn’t work properly, and on top of that my mom has been harassing me for the last three days.” There’s another thing, of course, and she considers just keeping her mouth shut, but she’s drunk and desperate and finally wants to talk with him about it. “And you,” Clarke adds quietly, staring down at her hands in her lap, “the situation with you has been… hard, too.”

“Ah.” For a moment she believes that’s all he’s going to say, but he goes on, “I’m so sorry, Clarke. I never wanted this to blow up in our faces. It was so stupid and selfish —”

Placing her hand over his, she cuts him off. “Stop apologizing. It wasn’t selfish. It was — you had to do it. I understand that.”

“It still made everything worse.”

“Bellamy…”

“No, look at you,” he says, his voice gaining temper and emotion. “You got wasted like you're back to being seventeen because of it, and then you broke down, and part of it is my fault. Because I couldn’t keep it to myself.”

Clarke doesn’t know what to respond to that, her throat dry as she stares at him. And the worst thing is that somewhere he is right. His confession did turn her world upside down and it hurts like a bitch.

“I don’t know what I wanted to hear when I told you,” he tells her after a moment, “I thought it would make things easier, that it’d set me free and help me move on. Or maybe a stupid part of me thought you would feel the same.” His adam’s apple bobs as he swallows, gaze trained on the steering wheel. “But all it did was fuck up our friendship, and now we don’t even know how to act around each other anymore.”

“I’m sorry,” she whispers. Bellamy starts shaking his head, but she wants him to hear it. “No, I really am. Because you’re a great guy, and every girl out there would be lucky to have you as her boyfriend, but you’re also my best friend, Bellamy, and that’s - that’s more important. I can’t lose that. I can’t lose _you_.”

“I know.”

“I hate that I’m causing you pain.”

He squeezes his eyes shut, and her heart clenches tighter inside her chest, an invisible fist wrapping around it and crushing it slowly.

“I think I’m going to distance myself from the group for a while," Bellamy says.

“What?“

And maybe this is what she‘s been afraid of since the first time he uttered those words. Not that everything‘s going to be weird and awkward, but that there‘s not going to be a friendship at all. Clarke couldn‘t take that even if she tried.

Don‘t get her wrong she loves all of her friends. Jasper never fails to make her laugh with his dumb jokes and crackhead thoughts. Raven is Raven. Awesome. Monty is a good person to talk to, and hilarious and stubborn in his own quiet way. Harper is sweet, and Clarke loves dancing and singing with her after they drink too much wine. But Bellamy —

Bellamy is all of that combined and more.

He‘s funny, and captivating, and charming, and always there for her whenever she needs him, but she also loves the way they can banter and bicker with each other when it‘s too hard to do anything else. When he comes into the room, it comes alive. He‘s like the freaking sun.

And as much as she loves her entire group of friends, nothing would be the same if he wasn‘t there anymore. Their conversations would be duller. The nights shorter. Life greyer, and her heart considerably emptier.

There were a couple of times in the last years when Bellamy wasn‘t around much. Once he had a fever that knocked him out for almost a month. Then Bellamy was working three jobs and finishing his master. The other time he had a very jealous and very temporary girlfriend. Clarke still remembers how much more miserable her life became during those periods of times. It even got to the point that she started refusing to go out when he wasn‘t there either.

So no, when Bellamy says that he will distance himself, Clarke does not take it well.

„No, you won’t. That’s absurd.”

“It’s the only way if I want to —” He shrugs and lets out a frustrated sigh. “— get over you. Maybe it’ll get better in a few weeks. Or months.”

 _Months?_ The thought of not seeing him for such a long time makes her ears ring. Her head is already shaking because she can’t accept that, can’t allow him going off the radar because of her.

“No. The only thing it’s going do is make you _and_ me miserable and lonely.”

“I have to, at least, try. Besides everyone will be busy with exams anyway. It's a good excuse.”

She stares at him and then turns away, crossing her arms in front of her chest. “You say you wanna distance yourself from the group, but what you really mean is distance yourself from _me_.”

“Clarke…”

“No, whatever we end up doing we still lose our friendship,” she murmurs.

“We can go back to where it was someday. That’s why I’ll stay away so that one day we can be normal friends again.”

It’s not good enough. Not good enough for him.

“Don’t stay away. _I’_ ll do it.”

He turns over to her, surprised. “What?”

“It makes more sense if I do it. Your issue is with me, right? So why should you stay away from the whole group, if I can just not show up for a while?" Staying away from the group won‘t be fun, but it‘s better than being somewhere while knowing Bellamy‘s not there because of _her_. “I have a lot going on with school either way,“ she adds. It‘s not a lie.

“I don’t want you to do that. Please, don’t do that,” Bellamy says.

Clarke‘s head turns around, throwing her hands in the air. “So you understand how it feels? That it’s shitty when you say that?”

“I just - just want to fix what I broke, Clarke.”

“And I’m trying to fix what you’re going to break!”

Somehow the words have a deeper impact than she thought they would have as a shadow flickers over Bellamy’s face. He looks at her for a second and then turns away, scrubbing a hand across his jaw. “Fine. I won’t.”

“You won’t do what?”

“I won’t stay away,” he says, and she lets out a sigh of relief.

“Thank you.”

 _Jesus Christ that took long._ It didn‘t fix anything either, though. They‘re still in the same position: Bellamy stuck on his feelings for her, and Clarke afraid of how it might change their relationship. But at least she knows she won‘t lose him entirely.

For a long while, they sit there in the car. The silence doesn‘t feel suffocating this time.

Eventually, Bellamy clears his throat. „Are you feeling better now?“

Clarke meets his gaze and musters up a grin, wiping at her eyes that are probably all smeared and red. „Emotionally? A little. Physically? I think I‘m going to throw up.“

„Didn‘t you drink water?“ he mutters, already fumbling around in his backseat for a bottle of water that he offers her with a firm nudge.

She doesn‘t complain when she starts gulping it down like it‘s her first time drinking ever. It's only the first time drinking anything other than liquor tonight.

„Thank you, Bell,“ she says afterward. Water always helps, although she feels like it‘s somewhat too late to prevent the hangover that will haunt her tomorrow.

„Don‘t mention it. Just keep drinking.“ She does. „Do you want me to take you home? Or somewhere else?“

Clarke casts a glance at him and considers her answer.

„What?“ he huffs.

„Can we go to your place?“ She feels bad for asking because she shouldn‘t. Clarke should let him drive her home where she would take a shower, drink more water, and then go to sleep. Instead, all she wants to do is curl up on Bellamy‘s plush couch, pet Persephone, his cat, and perhaps let him make her something to eat.

Okay, she sounds like a spoiled brat, she realizes seconds later and is grateful she didn‘t voice any of it out loud.

If Bellamy is somehow not cool with her suggestion, he doesn‘t show it. „All right,“ he says and starts the car. „Do you plan to, uh, stay over because we can get your things on the way there.“

„That‘s not necessary.“ She shrugs. „I already have my second toothbrush at your place. You can give me one of your shirts to sleep in.“ When the only thing she gets in reply is silence, Clarke says, „or is that... an issue?”

Bellamy snorts, his eyes still on the road. “Yeah, Clarke. I’m just gonna let you sleep in your jeans and not give you anything.”

“Well, maybe you don’t want me wearing your clothes,” Clarke mutters, crossing her arms defensively.

“You won’t get any sheets either. And forget my bed as well. You’re gonna sleep on the floor.”

“Shut up.” She slaps his arm but with a grin on her face. Raven was right in calling Bellamy. He always manages to make her feel better even on the shittiest and most terrible days. No matter how much tears she spends, she always end up smiling with him.

The first thing Clarke does when they enter his flat is taking a deep breath and closing her eyes. There’s something extraordinary about Bellamy’s scent. Something earthy and sweet, like the smell after rain. And the familiar smell of his deodorant.

“Do you want a cup of tea?” Bellamy calls, voice coming from the kitchen.

“Yes, please.” Clarke opens her eyes and glances around. His apartment is much tidier than hers, but then again: he isn’t living with John fucking Murphy. Persephone blinks at her drowsily from her cat tree, and Clarke goes to scratch her neck.

She hears footsteps behind her, and a moment later Bellamy is nudging a steaming cup of tea against her shoulder. “Black, like always.”

“Just as I like,” she says, taking it. “Thank you.”

“You still feel like throwing up?”

“No, it’s better now.”

Bellamy nods, she mirrors him.

“Well, then…”

“I told Raven,” she blurts out without any forewarning and feels her cheeks go hot seconds later. Why did she say that?

Bellamy shrugs. “I figured you’d do that when you two disappeared.”

“And I, also, uh, told Murphy.” She winces when he presses his lips together this time. “I’m sorry. I - I had to speak to someone, and usually, it would be you, but you —” her hand waves around wildly, and she trails off.

“I get it.”

“Are you angry?”

“No,” he says quickly. “I’m not angry, Clarke.”

“But it’s your secret to tell, not mine.”

“Yeah, well, it concerns you, too,” he says, “and I’m not ashamed of the fact that I want you, Clarke.”

Oh.

Oh god. She will never get used to him, _Bellamy Blake_ , saying things like that. Clarke ducks her head, not able to look him in the eye anymore.

Then he asks, “What’d they say?”

“Not much. The usual. Apparently, they weren’t surprised.”

“Huh.”

“Yeah…” Clarke takes a big gulp of her tea to hide the slight feeling of discomfort growing in her, even though she breached the subject again.  
“I’m tired.”

“Of course. I’ll get the bed ready.”

While he shuffles out and into his room, Clarke finishes her tea on the couch with Persi in her lap. She doesn’t think much of his preparations until he comes out holding his blanket and pillow in his arms.

Clarke blinks at him. “I’m sleeping on the couch?” She didn’t mean to sound so offended, but she’s so used to sharing a bed with him now that it feels strange to be sent to his couch. Not that she doesn’t understand why, but still.

Bellamy scratches the back of his neck. “I’m sleeping on the couch.”

“What?” Her brows furrow. “I’m not gonna banish you from your own bed.”

“You aren’t banishing anyone. I just thought... “ He sighs, dumps the sheets on the free space next to Clarke. “When we were at Jasper’s you didn’t want to share a bed. I figured you don’t want to anymore. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“Bellamy,” she says, shaking her head, and placing the cup on the coffee table in front of her, “I don’t mind sleeping in the same bed as you. I never did. Unless… it would make you uncomfortable?”

“It’s not like that.”

Obviously. “I can sleep on the couch. I - I shouldn’t have insisted on coming here in the first place.”

“Clarke, it’s fine. I don’t mind sharing a bed with you.” There’s some light amusement in his voice now, and it helps to lift part of the pressure in her chest.

Clarke returns the small smile. “All right. Just bring your blanket back, and then let’s sleep. I’m a walking zombie right now.”

•

Later when they’re lying back to back in darkness and silence, and she is on the brink of drifting off into a drunken sleep, Clarke hears herself murmur his name. "Bellamy?"

He doesn’t answer at first, so she assumes that he is already asleep. But then he replies, “Yeah?” His voice is low and hoarse.

“You don't want to be with me, trust me,” she whispers, her words laced with eighty percent hard liquor she drank tonight, and twenty percent truth that she's been carrying within herself for years now. “After a while, you'd change your mind and stop wanting me. I’m complicated. Difficult. You wouldn’t want me anymore.” 

“Clarke —”

“I'd lose you, just like everyone else.”

“No. You'll never lose me, Clarke.”

Maybe Bellamy says something else after that but exhaustion finally takes over her body and she drifts off before hearing anything else.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alright so these two chapters were like the introduction, but in chapter 3 we're finally going to get to the good stuff! stay tuned, and let me know what you think in the meantime. like seriously. comments > anything else in life


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we going ✈️✈️ angst

The next morning Clarke wakes up with less than half of her memories of last night, a pounding headache, and an empty spot beside her.

All of this in Bellamy‘s bed.

For a startling moment she‘s scared of what she might have done while being drunk off her ass, but then Clarke peaks under the sheets and sees with a sigh of relief that she‘s wearing clothes — pink pajama pants — that probably once belonged to Octavia — and one of Bellamy‘s oversized shirt.

Once she is confident that nothing happened, she shakes her head at herself. Bellamy would  _never_ do anything while she‘s drunk, especially when, as far as her memories go, he was sober the entire night.

There’s a bottle of water and an Advil pill on the nightstand on this side of the bed and Clarke silently thanks whoever might be up there for the blessing that is Bellamy Blake before gulping down the entire thing. Then she gets up and slowly tiptoes out of his room and into the half kitchen half living room that’s divided by a bar and several high chairs that she likes to sit and spin on when she’s bored.

Bellamy’s standing with her back to her, looking for something in the fridge.

Clarke clears her throat, and says, “Morning.”

He turns around, eggs in his hands, his expression stuck between surprise and that half-smile he seems to wear around her most of the times. Somewhere along the last few weeks, Clarke discovered the reason behind it.

“Hey,” he says and sets down the eggs next to the stove, “how are you doing?”

“For someone who drank, like, half of my body weight last night, surprisingly fine.” Clarke plops down at the bar and watches him crack the eggs, the pan sizzling with oil. “Aside from the usual shitty feeling after booze, of course.”

There’s a defining difference between a hangover and  _the hangover_ that involves headaches threatening to split open your skull, saliva rising in your throat every time you think about food or drinking, and the general desire to die. Thankfully and surprisingly, today’s case is the former.

“Probably the water you drank,” Bellamy muses.

“Yeah, thanks for forcing me to drink. Don’t know what I’d do without you.”

He doesn’t turn around or reply, merely shrugs, the muscles under the navy blue shirt he’s wearing shifting and tensing. A stifling silence overcomes the air between them, and for several, painful long moments the sound of fried egg is the only thing she hears.

As Clarke already mentioned, she doesn’t have a lot of memories. She does remember tears, though, Bellamy’s car, and a lot of mixed emotions dangling around her neck and keeping her in place, allowing her to move neither for- nor backward. But she’s here in his apartment, and they’re about to eat their hangover breakfast, and everything's almost just like it’s supposed to be. The lack of words right now is the only thing shattering this illusion.

Her voice is quiet when she says, “Do you think we will be alright?”

His back tenses. “Yeah,” he says eventually, “we always are, right?”

But this time is different. It’s not _them_ — Bellamy and Clarke — against the world which has always been easy. It's the most natural thing in the world to turn to Bellamy when things go south, whether it was her mother and med school or the death of his mom, the complicated relationship with his currently absent sister, stress, exams, failure, wrong girl- and boyfriends, or whatever else the world threw at them. No, this time it feels like it’s Bellamy and Clarke against each other in a strange, ironic kind of a way, and she has no idea how to deal with that.

“I hope so,” she murmurs, drawing invisible patterns on the smooth surface of the counter. “I want — no, I _need_ us to be okay, Bell.”

He turns around. If it’s because their breakfast is ready, or because he wants to look at her when he speaks, she doesn’t know. “Trust me, I know. I’m the same, but —” His Adam's apple bobs as he swallows, “— it’s not that easy to just  _not_ feel that way.”

“Of course,” she hurries to assure him, “I’m not saying you should do that. I’m aware it’s not that simple.”

If she’s honest, Clarke  _doesn't_ one hundred percent know that, because, as shitty as this sounds, she’s never been in his position before. When she started liking Finn, she knew he returned the sentiment because they kissed the next day. Lexa asked her out the first time she saw her. There was never any question mark at the beginning of their relationship. And aside from Finn and Lexa, there were no other romances. Yeah, sure, sometimes Clarke saw people and went _Oh, I’d totally do that_ in her head, but that’s about it. She thought that exact thing about Raven once, and there they are now, crying in each other’s laps because of the dumbassery that is called feelings. So Clarke never had a crush like that, much less an unrequited one. Hence she doesn’t know what it must be like for Bellamy.

But she thought Bellamy was no different. During the four years of friendship with him, she has never seen a single girl resist his charms and undeniable good looks. He used that fact a lot in the beginning, going home with a different pair of slim, long legs each night out. Now and then there were relationships. Roma — which lasted for about eight days. Gina — his longest relationship up to date, but also ended after a few months without any proper reason except for a, “It wasn’t meant to be” from Bellamy. And another girl — woman — monster whose name Clarke doesn’t even seem to remember, only that it was ridiculous, just like their whole three-week relationship. But yeah, shortly put: Clarke always assumed Bellamy wasn’t keen on the whole relationship thing, and if he ever did, he would have no problem with the other person feeling the same way.

That makes it all the more terrible. Bellamy’s heart is being broken, and his best friend is the one responsible. How cruel is that?  
  
“I don’t think my feelings are going to change anytime soon,” he says then, “but that’s okay. Our friendship is more important than that.”

Clarke smiles, a sigh leaving her chest. “Thank you.” And she hopes with all of her heart that it’s true. 

•

  
That same day Raven invites herself over, and they discuss last night’s events over a box of waffles she brought along. Of course, it’s only a matter of time until Raven says, “So. You and Blake, huh?”

Clarke shakes her head. She doesn’t know when her life turned into a Bellamy Blake gossip club. “If by Blake and me you mean Bellamy and me being friends, then yes. Otherwise, it’s just Blake.”

“That means nothing happened after he picked you up?”

“No!” she says, slightly scandalized and appalled. “Did you not hear me cry about the fact that we have different feelings for each other the whole night yesterday?”

Raven rolls her eyes, biting off a piece of her waffle. “Yeah, but you also said that you would fuck him if you were drunk and Clarke? You were _absolutely_ wasted.”

“Well, nothing happened.”

“Then what did you two do the entire night?”

“Aside from me having an overdramatic and embarrassing mental breakdown? Drinking water and cuddling Persi.”

“Ugh,” Raven says, making a face, “how boring.”

“What did  _you_ the rest of the night?” Clarke shoots back. “What’s his name again? Zeke?”

“You’re changing the topic, Griffin. I know that my own love life isn’t the most negligible one. I admit that. But you are avoiding my questions.”

“You had no questions, only incorrect comments.”

“See?”

Sighing, Clarke picks at her waffle. “I’m avoiding your hypothetical questions because it’s all I seem to talk about these days. And I’m honestly getting tired of it.”

“What’s the issue if those feelings are only from Bellamy’s side?”

Clarke blinks at Raven, brows drawn together. “Are you implying I have feelings for Bellamy, too?”

“There’s a reason why the Bellamy and Clarke betting pools have been going on for years now,” she says with a shrug.

“That reason is that all of you are noisy and bored.”

“And _right_ ,” Raven’s mouth curls into a cocky smile. “At least for Blake’s part so far.”

“I hate you.”

“I mean, come on. He looks good. You said that yourself, right?”

Clarke hums both in agreement and annoyance.

“You have a lot in common. You’re best friends. Yadda, yadda, yadda. Don’t they always say that you should date your best friend?”

“I don’t think they mean it like that, but more like that your partner should be your best friend.”

“Whatever. We can tick the best friend box. What’s next?” Raven narrows her eyes at nothing in particular, thinking. “Oh! You’re sex deprived!”

Clarke raises a brow. “So?”

“So you want and need to get laid again,” Raven says. “I already asked you yesterday, but I’m gonna ask you again. Sober this time. Would you fuck Bellamy? Forget feelings and everything else, just: would you sleep with Bellamy Blake if it came to it?”

“I —“ Somehow the lack of clear answer in her feels like admitting something that is not true, and it makes Clarke huff in irritation. “I can’t answer that. There are too many factors to consider!”

“Fuck the factors. Bellamy’s offering. Do you say yes or no?”

“Raven —“

“It’s life or death, Clarke! Quick, yes or no!”

“Well, if it saved our lives then of course, yes —“

“No, I mean like life or death if you don’t give me an answer right now.”

“That doesn’t help, it just —”

“Yes or no?!”

“Yes!”

Clarke is surprised by her answer, and for a moment she sits there, frowning at herself. Well, if she said yes while being drunk then it does make sense she would agree now, too. That doesn’t mean anything, though. Having sex with someone and loving someone are two completely different things. She had one night stands. Two or three times. She never had a friends-with-benefits type of relationship, but she’s sure she could handle that without falling in love, too, so this admission doesn’t change anything.

Raven, oblivious to her inner thoughts already doing damage control, says, “Alright, so let me summarize. You think he’s attractive, you like him as a person, and you wouldn’t say no to jumping into bed with Bellamy. Why am I the crazy one for saying you might feel the same?”

Hearing it like that is… concerning. All the things are there, and yet these points don’t connect. Clarke is still pretty sure she doesn’t love Bellamy romantically. And maybe that’s the greatest tragedy of all, that it could be something, _so easily_ , but for some reason, it isn't.

Raven seems to sense her feelings on this, or maybe she can secretly read her thoughts because the smirk on her face falters and she presses her lips together. „Wow, okay,“ she says. „I don‘t get it, but okay.“

„I don‘t understand either,“ Clarke retorts, fidgeting with the watch around her wrist. „I wish I would, but I don‘t.“

„Don‘t pull that face yet. Everything will sort itself out eventually.“

That might be true, but Clarke has the feeling that there‘s not a lot of time left to figure it all out because with every day, every strange and strained conversation with Bellamy, with every anxious thought, something in their relationship changes. And there are only two directions their friendship can take from this point on.  
•  
In the next two weeks, she has too much art history theory to cram into her brain to do anything other than summarise overtly complicated texts, and highlight passages that sound clever. On her occasional breaks — meaning every two hours — she leaves her fortress of solitude and allows herself another episode of the walking dead. Since Bellamy, who often helped her study and kept her company during breaks, claimed he didn't have time the last three times, Murphy joins her now and then. A quiet presence, most of the time more annoying and sarcastic than she prefers, but at least someone.

Nonetheless, Bellamy's absence annoys her. Not to sound like a jealous girlfriend — _really_ , she's neither jealous nor his girlfriend — but three _sorry no time todays_ from him are more excuses than Clarke's got in the last four years. Bellamy Blake makes time for his friends, for Clarke, even in busy times. And he can't say that he has his own exams to study for. He's a couple of years older than all of them, thus already been through what they are going through right now and is currently doing his teacher education program. So it's pretty telling why he isn't here right now.

And that, frankly, pisses Clarke off. Why did he bother to assure her that their friendship is more important than his more than his platonic feelings if he was going to ditch her at the first opportunity he got anyway?

She is annoyed, a little frustrated, and moody from all the monotonous texts, but she knows she's not being entirely fair to Bellamy either. After all, he's her best friend. And if that's his attempt at dealing with it or moving on, then she should support him. However, it  _is_ a problem, and Clarke's good at solving problems — as long as they're not her own. So she tries to do just that.

Clarke does the first thing a sane person would do: google it. The first thing that pops up in the search results is a link to the  _Wikihow_ site. She doesn't hesitate before clicking on it.

_How to Get Over a Crush on Your Best friend._

Perfect. Wikihow has helped her more than once in the last years of her life. When she was seventeen and met Finn, she read an elaborate article on there on how to kiss someone with tongue. Clarke also read about bleaching her hair, moving out, adopting healthier eating habits and countless other shit she was too embarrassed to ask out loud. When Octavia dragged home the stray kitten that goes by the name Persephone now, Bellamy and she researched _How to befriend a Wild Cat or Kitten._ Surely it will help with this problem, too.

She starts reading, and the first step is to _tell your friend you have a crush if you need closure_. Great, that one is already done. However, Clarke's not sure if it did more damage than provide any kind closure. Anyway, step two is _to reveal how you feel if the friendship has changed_ , which is kind of redundant. Bellamy likes her more than a friend. She doesn't. What else is there to say? The other ways are similar in their futility. _Accepting your feelings, staying friends, letting yourself laugh_ (?!), _practicing self-care._ How is drinking a smoothie and wearing a face mask going to help Bellamy get over those feelings?

One of the more useful tips is _setting boundaries_ , which Clarke muses might actually help. She's a touchy person, in particular with Bellamy. But can you blame her if her hands are always cold and his body is like a goddamn furnace? It only makes sense to lean her head against his shoulder or lie in his lap during movie nights or cuddle him when she's drunk and giddy — Alright, alright, Clarke sees how it might be interpreted. She never thought he minded, but if reducing the amount of body contact will help him with this, she will gladly do it. The other advice that makes her heart trip with sudden excitement is _Go out with other people when you're ready._

God, it's so obvious. How did she not think of it herself? What better way is there to get over somebody than to get under someone else?

Clarke snaps her laptop shut and starts scheming, a plan beginning to form in her head. It's decided. She will help Bellamy find someone who will make him realize it's not her that he actually wants.

•

 

They're at a bar, the Dropship, and it's perfect because it's the same place Clarke saw Bellamy take countless girls home over the years. College is keeping most of them still busy but it's been more than three weeks since their last gathering, so they all figure they deserve this night out.

Clarke saw Bellamy only once since she hatched the plan to get him laid and that encounter was very short and kind of awkward. She convinced him to go out with her for tea, coffee, and cake at their favorite coffee shop, but not even after an hour of mostly small talk he insisted he had to get going again. Exactly why she's going to strike tonight.

"Will you help me get the next round?" she asks him, already standing up and giving him no other choice but to agree.

At the bar, while the blonde bartender is opening their beers, Clarke glances over to the side and sees the group of girls eyeing Bellamy with their long eyelashes and plump red lips. Because, _of course_ , they are. Nudging him with her elbow, she says, "Hey, these girls are staring at you."

Bellamy's eyes flicker over to the group only for a moment, before he looks back at her and shrugs. "So?"

"So?" she parrots after giving the bartender a grateful smile grabbing the bottles. "They're pretty. That brunette one is pretty hot actually."

He takes the other bottles, juggling them smoothly between his fingers. "Then talk to her if you think that way."

Clarke rolls her eyes. "You know how I meant it."

"I don't need this, Clarke."

"What?"

"The —" His hand gestures vaguely, bottles clinking. "— matchmaking and trying to find me someone else. I don't need it."

They're almost at their table, and Clarke stops a few feet away to finish this conversation without all of their friends overhearing what it's about. "You haven't even tried, Bell. Who knows? Maybe it'll help!"

"Well, I don't want it," he says, not looking at her.

Which sucks because that will get both of them nowhere. "And I don't want you to be awkward and avoidant of me forever," Clarke snaps.

Finally, Bellamy meets her gaze, his jaw hardening. "I'm not asking you for anything but some fucking time, Clarke. Is that so hard?"

"No, of course not." Her chest falls with frustration. "It's not that. You know, I'm not trying to push you —"

"Really? Because it feels an awful lot like it."

"I'm sorry, okay? This is all new to me. I don't - I don't know how to deal with all of this."

"Neither do I," he says, and Clarke lets out a small sigh when his voice returns to its normal depth and tone. "Let's just go back now, okay?"

"Yeah. Alright."

They join their friends back at their table, distributing the beers, but sitting there wedged next to Jasper, whose hands slap her in the face now and then while he's telling a story about his last exam, Clarke can't help but think that this conversation — argument with Bellamy isn't over yet.

There's a minuscule smile on Bellamy's face as he listens to Jasper. It's the 'Octavia hasn't picked up her phone in four days, but if I say it everyone will reassure me she's alright' smile; the 'I'm smiling through my pain' curl of lips. It doesn't reach his eyes. And Clarke hates it, just like she hates that he's avoiding her gaze, or looks away every time they do look at each other.

Is this how it's going to be from now on? Unfinished fights and ignoring one another?

Clarke gulps down her beer in less than ten minutes and excuses herself to get another one. This time she doesn't ask Bellamy to join her. He doesn't offer to come along. Back at the bar, she drops down in the seat, letting out a tired sigh and driving a hand through her hair. The two times she contributed something to the group's conversation, Bellamy pointedly overlooked her. Her mood's officially done for today.

"You look like you could use more than a beer."

Clarke glances up. It's the bartender — the blonde and pretty woman that has a gentle smile and knowing eyes.

"Maybe," Clarke replies, forcing up a smile. "Can I get a shot of vodka?" The bartender nods. "Or you know what. Make it two." Another nod.

A moment later there are two shots of vodka sitting in front of her, waiting to be drunk.

"Boy trouble?" the bartender asks.

"Sort of."

A considering look. "Girl trouble?"

Clarke smiles at the subtle inquisition and shakes her head. "Best friend trouble."

"Well..." A small pause and then, "if you ever want some distraction." Again a subtle, but not opposing offer.

"Thanks," Clarke says with a small laugh and stretches out her hand. "I'm Clarke, by the way."

"Niylah."

They shake hands, and a small part of Clarke remarks that Niylah's hands are kind of cold unlike Bellamy's whose hands are always warm and perfect. She pushes that thought down.

Niylah and her chat. Clarke finds out that Niylah gets off in a few minutes, so she waits out these five minutes. Then Niylah joins her at the bar instead of behind of it, buying them another few rounds of shots, and soon Clarke's head is buzzing softly with beer and vodka and the promise of something she's been craving since the break up with Lexa.

The lack of presence of any of her friends either means they haven't noticed her absence, or that they know better than to bother her. Sometimes one of them vanishes and comes back later with swollen lips and secretive grins. It happens. And yet, throughout the minutes she spends with Niylah, she keeps thinking that what she's doing is wrong in the back of her mind. Every time that part gains a little more than a thought an image of Bellamy will appear, and Clarke has to remind herself that everything's okay. He likes her, yes, but that doesn't mean she has to spend the rest of their friendship alone to spare his feelings. As harsh as that sounds. They're okay. They will be. Okay, okay, okay —

Suddenly Niylah's very close, and then they're kissing. A soft, short press of lips that ends as soon as it started it, but Niylah is smiling, and Clarke feels it's appropriate to smile back. Part of her longs for more. It's been months since somebody kissed her, touched and caressed her, and Raven was right when she said Clarke's sex deprived. She IS. Another, not so quiet part of her, is bristling and refusing this, though. _It's not right. She shouldn't be doing this._

Clarke ignores the latter and gives in to her urges. Her hands touch Niylah's neck and chin and tug her closer, kiss her again, more deeply and longer —

_No. This is wrong._

She breaks away with a firm inhale, her hands clenching tightly.

Niylah asks, "Did I do something wrong?"

"No, you didn't do anything." Clarke looks at her and offers an apologetic look. "I'm sorry. I just — I can't right now. Sorry."

Niylah shrugs. "It's alright. Maybe some other time."

"Maybe," she agrees, getting up before hurrying back to the table.

It's been — what? Twenty minutes? Forty? Maybe she can write it off as a headache or something wrong she ate for lunch. Maybe nobody saw her. But the first thing she sees, or rather doesn't see when she approaches their table is Bellamy. Her heart plummets.

"Hey, where's Bellamy?"

"He just left," Miller tells her, his face oblivious. However, Raven who's nestled into the corner next to Emori is making a face. Clarke doesn't need to ask to know what it means.

"I, uh," she stammers, grabbing her purse from under the table, "I need to talk to him. I'll see you guys next time!"

And then she's already walking through the bar, her pace fast and relentless. When the hell did it get so crowded here? Clarke pushes past a group of loud boys, mumbling excuses, before stepping outside. The cold air hits her like a truck and the night's events clear in her head at once. _Oh god_. Bellamy probably saw her. She walks into the direction he would take. You didn't do anything wrong, she tells herself, but in the next second she thinks, but it was kind of shitty.

Rounding the corner, she finally sees the back of Bellamy's coat, and calls, "Bellamy, hey!"

He doesn't stop. Either he's not hearing, or ignoring her. Both are possible scenarios right now, so she tries again. "Bellamy, stop!" By the time he finally glances around she's in front of him, her breaths coming out in uneven patterns, heart racing.

"Clarke, please."

"What?" she tries, clinging to the last shred of hope that he didn't see, but simply left because he remembered he had to do another assignment or something as shallow as that. "Why are you leaving already?"

Bellamy's face twists into a mix of rolling his eyes and an irritated huff of breath as he regards her but pointedly avoids her eyes. "Please, just —" He shakes his head. "— let me go home before I say something I'll regret."

That hope vanishes.

"I'm sorry," she finds herself saying.

Bellamy doesn't say anything, his lips pressing into a thin line.

Clarke's struck expression turns more grave and hot. "I just _apologized_ , Bellamy! For something, I shouldn't apologize for. The least you could do is reply."

"What do you want me to say, Clarke?" he asks.

"I - I don't know. How about _don't_ apologize? That you're not mad over something like this? That everything will be alright?!"

"I'm not —" Bellamy's eyes fall shut for a moment. He takes a breath, opens them and starts again, "I know I have no right to be mad, and I'm not forcing you to apologize. But... I'm not gonna lie and say that everything's okay."

"I kissed someone, Bellamy. It - It will happen one way or another someday. Are you going to leave then too?"

He shrugs. "Maybe."

"Are you fucking serious?"

Bellamy's jaw ticks, but again, he remains silent.

"What happened to _'our friendship is more important, Clarke?_   _'_ Huh, what about that?"

"So you want me to stay somewhere I don't wanna be so that you can — _what?_ Drink and make out with other people? You want me to be present for that _so bad_?"

Clarke scowls. "No, of course not."

"Then what is it you want?"

"I _want_ ," her voice quivers and ebbs, and she fears that it might break completely, "your word that you won't end this friendship over something as unimportant as this!" Clarke regrets her words as soon as they're out. "I didn't mean it like th—"

"Yeah, I got it. Don't bother."

"No, you didn't! I wasn't referring to your feelings. And you  _know_ that."

"It doesn't matter." His voice sounds more tired and hollow than angry or jealous, and somehow that makes it even worse. Clarke is responsible for that. "I'm not ending anything, or giving up our friendship, okay? We're not in high school anymore. I just want to go home right now, and that's it. Can you understand that?"

She finds herself nodding, but just like his voice, it's the shell of what it's supposed to be. "Can we talk about it tomorrow then?"

"No."

The answer is so decided, so clipped and hard, that it takes her several seconds to realize the meaning of it.

"Okay... what about Sunday?"

His silence is answer enough. The day isn't the issue. It's _Clarke._

"Wow, okay."

When she doesn't say anything else, Bellamy lets out a breath and says, "I'm gonna go now."

"Yeah, do that." She can't help the bitterness that laces around her voice.

"I will."

"Whatever, Bellamy." Now her words are not sharp, but empty.

"Good night, Clarke."

The small part that clung the hope that he will not leave and instead, stay with her so that they can talk it out like proper adults turns to ash when he turns around walks away. Clarke remains standing there, feeling like someone just punched her in the guts.

_What the hell did she do?_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm sorry it took so long i have been really busy these last few days :( i hope i'll be faster with the next chapter yo

**Author's Note:**

> Multichapter because that will make it a lot easier to update. If you have anything to say about this, feel free to leave a comment because that shit is what i live for, or talk to me on [this](iseeyoou.tumblr.com) or [this](twitter.com/clarkeagriffin) blue hellsite!
> 
> (Also, not to be ~ tHaT ~ girl but even if it’s off for a light start, it will get really angsty for a while. Promise.)


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